


Listening In

by tanghali



Category: Leverage
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Pre-Season 5, might be a little bit spoilery for some eps in season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanghali/pseuds/tanghali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sterling keeps tabs on his favorite team of thieves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listening In

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted here on SamanthaFeng's gentle insistence that I archive my works. 
> 
> Written for the 10 weeks of Nate and Sophie over at [](http://nathan-sophie.livejournal.com/profile)[nathan_sophie](http://nathan-sophie.livejournal.com/). Prompt - signed, sealed, delivered. So unbeta-ed it hurts.

"Tell me I don’t pay you simply to make a mess out of this office,” James declared out loud to the seemingly empty room.

The low hum generated by the dozens of electronic equipment in the room was punctured by a stage-whispered “Shit!” followed by a scrambling noise. James fought the urge to roll his eyes and leaned against a table littered with stripped cables, several pliers, and empty candy wrappers.

“Sir!” A gangly redhead emerged from the back of a large monitor, guiltily fixing his tie. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

James raised his eyebrows and paused _just so_ , until boy realized how stupid his question was. He was rewarded with a pained wince.

“I was told you had something for me?”

“Yes, ah, I managed to exploit a vulnerability in Hardison’s server. He forgot to patch the latest update of Apache, which is strange considering it’s been out for three days. He’s never been this clumsy before—”

James abhorred nerds, and standing right in front of him was perhaps the most quintessential one of them all. Tall but slouching, the boy (Eric, was it?) looked like a nervous wreck of a human who couldn’t wear a simple suit with the least bit of panache. As the boy droned on and on about… ports and doors, making incomprehensible gestures, James leaned against the meeting table and drummed his fingers against it.

And very quickly snatched his hand back. It was sticky with what seemed to be spilled soda.

Grimacing, he interrupted Eric at what seemed to be the height of his tirade. “Can we please get to the point.”

The boy wrung his hands and decided on the best way to explain. “Um, we can read their emails?”

“Wonderful.” James muttered. “Send the results up to my office.”

“Yes sir, right away sir!”

As he stepped out of the chaos, James made eye contact with his assistant waiting outside the office. “After he sends the documents to me,” he said, appreciating how crisp and efficient Vicky always looked, “fire him.”

 

* * *

 

Date: 10 Mar 12 20:32:13  
From: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: something for my collection  
To: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>

Look, Nate, isn’t it lovely? I ran into a collector here in Russia and I’ve been thinking about adding to my jewelry box.

####

Date: 13 Mar 12 15:00:45  
From: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: paris again  
To: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>

Paris in the spring is spectacular. When are you going to get off that boat of yours and join me here?

####

Date: 24 Mar 12 10:50:01  
From: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: spain  
To: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>

Forget whatever I said about Paris and spring. Spain is where everyone should be this time of year. I’ve borrowed a country house with a magnificent view of the Mediterreanan coast. It’s a quiet place but at night all the locals come round and dance by the shore.

The nearest bar makes the best alcoholic mixes I’ve ever had. I know how you love a good bar, Nate. You’ll love it here.

Your invitation to join me is still open.

####

Date: 24 Mar 12 11:05:21  
From: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: re: spain  
To: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>

Not even going to ask about the crown jewels anymore.  
I hope you gave them back.

I need to be alone for now, Soph. Still making plans.  
But glad to see you enjoying yourself.

####

Date: 24 Mar 12 11:07:03  
From: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: re: re: spain  
To: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>

Who says I stole anything?

And, how typical. The moment I mention a cute bartender, that’s when you reply to my emails.

####

Date: 24 Mar 12 11:10:11  
From: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: re: re: re: spain  
To: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>

…

You only talked about a bar, not a bartender.  
Should I be worried?

And it’s not like I have internet on my boat.  
I only just got back on land to restock on some supplies.

####

Date: 24 Mar 12 11:11:53  
From: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: re: re: re: re: spain  
To: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>

You mean I didn’t mention that the bar is owned by a young Irish businessman? He’s really brilliant, you know, and he’s got the most beautiful smile. Mark’s recently hired a bodyguard to keep the women off him. Adorable, right?

####

Date: 24 Mar 12 11:13:15  
From: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: re: re: re: re: re: spain  
To: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>

I know what you’re doing and I’m not falling for it Sophie.

####

Date: 24 Mar 12 11:16:05  
From: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: re: re: re: re: re: re: spain  
To: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>

What, enjoying myself? You should try it some time.

Live a little, darling.

xoxo

 

* * *

 

This time around, the office was mercifully cleaner. James approved. A few papers and pens were scattered on the meeting table but otherwise the place was spotless.

The new guy slid across the room on his swivel chair, his longish hair tied in a ponytail, in his hands a stack of papers.

“Hey man.” He held up the papers, not bothering to get up from his seat. James raised an eyebrow, unsure if the man was being purposely cheeky. “Got the goods for you right here. Might’ve crashed their server and corrupted a few stuff but it should be fine.”

James inhaled, deeply. “I assume Vicky has told you that we are monitoring their communications to see where they’ll next set up camp. If any sensitive information gets corrupted…”

“Dude. Keep your pants on. It’s just a couple of lovers quarelling over email.”

James bit back a sigh. He really should stop surrounding himself with idiots and insubordinate employees. Interpol really wasn’t as glamorous as it sounded. He was already developing a tic in his left eye.

“Send them up to my office,” he finally said before he could fire yet another IT developer, turning on his heel and walking out the door.

“Should we get a new IT person, sir?” Vicky asked once he was out of the office.

He paused, weighing the pros and cons. “No, not yet.”

 

* * *

 

Date: 15 Apr 12 13:36:05  
From: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: not done with your plans yet?  
To: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>

Beautiful day at the beach.

I bought this swimsuit for you, you know.

–óp6O‚pc\DÞtèMfÓ`9[|nAçÁ4Çþ¢•‡—þÇeôe>žž·ª(Co<mÅ‹Ù§q°ÅOƒèj~lE2‹>´ÂÕÕ•IÏþ·ÀçR

####

Date: 16 Apr 12 09:10:11  
From: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: re: not done with your plans yet?  
To: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>

You always look beautiful.  
You don’t need me to tell you that.

I noticed someone else took that picture of you.  
Does the “cute bartender” know that you  
bought that swimsuit for me?

####

Date: 16 Apr 12 16:20:01  
From: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: re: re: not done with your plans yet?  
To: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>

No he doesn’t.

####

Date: 16 Apr 12 18:08:33  
From: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: (untitled)  
To: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>

Answer your phone Sophie.

####

Date: 16 Apr 12 18:12:50  
From: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: (untitled)  
To: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>

Look, I know I have been an ass but please answer the phone.

####

Date: 16 Apr 12 18:18:40  
From: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: (untitled)  
To: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>

Goddamn it Sophie why aren’t you p  
_Draft autosaved_

####

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0¦/ds^[R¹Üé—

 

* * *

 

With a long-suffering sigh, James slapped the papers on his desk. He did _not_ want to be spending his office hours reading about how Nate was getting on with _Jenny_ , no, it was Sophie these days, and how badly he seemed to be mucking up that relationship as well.

Typical Nate, he thought. Even in those days when he had been going out with Maggie, the man had been maddeningly close-mouthed, always inside his head. He’d lost count of the number of times Maggie had angrily asked him what his erstwhile partner was thinking.

Some things never changed, it seemed.

James pressed the intercom to call the IT office. No answer came. Talk about maddening things: his new network engineer never seemed to be at work whenever James needed him. Not to mention his sloppy results. The picture of Sophie he could do without but there was page upon page of unreadable information.

He buzzed the office again only to receive no reply. Growling, he called Vicky, demanding to know the whereabouts of whatever his name was.

“He checked out early today,” Vicky replied over the intercom.

“It’s only two o’clock in the afternoon,” James pointed out angrily.

“Yes sir.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Fire him. And get someone new working on the phone call Nathan Ford made to Sophie Devereaux, as well as making sense out of this _mess_ I’m reading.”

There was a pause before Vicky finally said, “There’s no one immediately available.”

“But?” James prompted, sensing there was more.

“The last one we hired—”

_Oh god. The messy one._

“Fine,” he bit out. “Bring him back.”

The next batch of emails came with a long apologetic explanation of why the phone call could not be traced, and that the previous emails had been corrupted beyond repair. James tossed it into the trash bin almost immediately.

 

* * *

 

Date: 02 May 12 13:20:41  
From: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: (untitled)  
To: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>

I get back on land and there are no emails from you?  
Are you busy with something?

####

Date: 02 May 12 13:48:12  
From: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: re: (untitled)  
To: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>

Oh I don’t know, Nate. Did it occur to you that maybe I had other plans besides badgering you about how yours are going?

####

Date: 02 May 12 13:53:30  
From: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: re: re: (untitled)  
To: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>

Sophie… these plans are sensitive.  
The less who know about it, the better.  
I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.

* * *

The IT office was now a jungle of wires. Eric was in the middle of the room, surrounded by an undergrowth of crisscrossing cables, staring at a couple of large monitors. Every so often, the boy would mechanically bring a coffee cup up to his mouth.

“What the bloody hell is all this?” James asked, gesturing to the wires.

The boy jumped in his seat.

“Well, um, Hardison strengthened the security on his server and it's almost impossible to get in so I’m hooking up to the physical cable to capture whatever data’s coming in.”

“This mess had better be worth it,” James growled, grabbing the top of Eric’s chair as he stepped over a couple of cables dangling between two routers. “Any results so far?”

“No, sir. It’s been quiet,” the boy replied, pointing up to the top right monitor which was, as far as James could see, not quiet at all. The display was constantly scrolling down, displaying an indecipherable jumble of text and numbers.

When he was about to point out exactly that, something made the boy start typing furiously. “Something’s being sent to the server, looks like an encrypted email,” he explained.

“Can you decrypt it?”

Judging from the sideways look Eric gave him, he might as well have asked if the sky was really blue. James decided to close his mouth; the boy was proving to be very useful.

 

* * *

 

Date: 07 Jun 12 09:13:00  
From: <sdevereaux@[172.15.32.114]>  
Subject: fwd: we back in business baby!  
To: <nford@[172.15.32.114]>

So it’s back to business as usual then?

>Leverage Inc. is reopening for business, ladies and gents!  
>  
>Directions to our meeting in Portland should have been  
>forwarded to all your phones. See you on July 14.  
>  
>alec

 

* * *

 

James gleefully placed a hand on Eric's shoulder. “Good job,” he said, smirking.

Finally, some progress. They were abandoning their Boston headquarters after all. And he now knew where they were moving—to Portland of all places. It wouldn't matter what plans Nate might have concocted, he was sure the team was not going to know what hit them.

_end_

 

 

 _(bonus)_  
“Who did you think she was with?” The voice that greets him is definitely not Sophie’s. Although it’s not male either, so he relaxes infinitesimally.

Nate pauses for a moment before blurting out, “Tara?”

“You know, I honestly don’t know what she sees in you, Ford.” The grifter continues without paying attention to him. “Gorgeous beach with gorgeous men, and she’s wearing this bikini but she’s not even flirting with anyone. Insists she bought it for you. You’re an idiot. You’re both idiots.”

He rubs his temples. He can imagine Tara rolling her eyes at him and he isn’t pleased. “Look. Can I just talk to Sophie now?”

“Yeah, sure.”

While the phone is being passed from Tara to Sophie, he can hear the unmistakeable sounds of the bar they’re currently in—loud thumping bass, and the combined murmur of dozens of people trying to talk over the din. He tries to keep from frowning.

“Nate.” Sophie greets flatly.

“Sophie, I—” and then he stops, not knowing how best to continue that sentence. He hasn’t been the most attentive of, well, they haven’t talked about what they were to each other, but it’s certainly no longer a casual thing between them. And he doesn’t want it to be casual, never has. Just… he has to finish this one last job. He has to set the wheels in motion before he can think of settling down.

“Were you jealous?” she asks, a hint of teasing in her tone, breaking him out of his reverie. She’s moved to someplace quieter; he can barely hear the blaring music now.

Nate bites the inside of his cheek, frowns. “I didn’t know what to think.”

“Mmm. Then maybe you should call more often, or is that forbidden too?”

“I should,” he replies honestly. “I… I miss you, Soph.”

There’s a pause at the other end of the line, as if Sophie’s too shocked to speak. And then, “Naturally,” she says flippantly, but Nate can hear the smile in her voice. He smiles himself and bites his lips, shoving a hand down his pocket. He searches for something else to say, but all he can think of is how badly he wants to see her.

“See you soon?” she says.

“Soon,” Nate promises.


End file.
